Hadley's Ballet Class

The ballerinas, dressed in pink, Adorable, you can't help think, All rush to where their teacher waits, Where music wafts and resonates. The grown-ups must remain outside Where covered windows seem to hide Whatever lessons might be taught. (Attempts to peek all come to naught.) The moms chit-chat, comparing notes, (Which cereals get all their votes). The grands and sitters sit alone And read or focus on the phone. When class is over, spirits high, She demonstrates the butterfly And how to point and flex her toes While standing in a ballet pose. Now slippers off and sneakers on; Another lesson's come and gone. We dress and take our dancer home, The star, today, of Nana's poem.